


No Choice at All

by AvaKelly



Category: Marvel
Genre: Accidental Child Acquisition, Canon-Typical Violence, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Found Family, Kid Fic, Lucky the pizza dog - Freeform, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutism, No beta we die like mne, Oblivious, Pining, Sign Language, natasha makes a blunder but she's not the resident idiot here, universe hopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: In his defense, this is not the first time Clint touched something he shouldn't. It is, however, the first time Clint gets flinged—yeeted, as Pietro would say—into an alternate universe.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 41
Kudos: 338





	No Choice at All

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elenorasweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenorasweet/gifts), [vexbatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vexbatch/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Nora! Thank you, Vex! (You two are sharing this one because 1. Nora, I'm still working on the fic I owe you, and 2. Vex has been helping me stay motivated while writing said fic.)
> 
> This plot bunny was generated by Vex, fed by Nora, and now here we are. 
> 
> A note on the universe: it is not explicitly MCU, although it does have some elements. I kept it vague enough that you can imagine whatever you want.

In his defense, this is not the first time Clint touched something he shouldn't. It is, however, the first time Clint gets flinged—yeeted, as Pietro would say—into an alternate universe. Here, New York has never seen a Chitauri invasion. Heck, this city has never seen IronMan, nor ever heard of Stark. Any Stark. Hence, there's no Captain America and there's no SHIELD. The technology available to the public seems quite a few years behind what Clint is used to, but perhaps something more advanced could be found in the hands of intelligence organizations and secret research laboratories. He just needs to find them first. 

The world is similar enough to his that Clint can put his skills to good use, retrieve some money from someone with an illegally earned surplus, and hack his way into various systems. It's not difficult work, but since his knowledge of the place is sparse, his progress is slow. 

So he ends up checking out his old building, buys it in this universe, too, and sets about lowering the rents. 

And of course. Of course the tracksuit mafia guys are here, too. But this time around Clint is older and more experienced, he'd like to think. Instead of accidentally tripping over his untied shoelace, he does so on purpose, hiding his talents by seemingly flailing the assholes into unconsciousness. Really, he needs to stay covert, and for that reason only he lets the two thugs go with a warning. 

Lucky is just as much of a pizza dog here as he was back home. Clint has missed the mutt so much, he cries into his fur for two hours. 

~

For almost six months Clint keeps hacking, tracking, making contacts. He takes a couple of light infiltration jobs as a way to gain favors, too, but nothing that would force a target in his sights. All he wants is to get home, not return to his stint as an agent. 

It's during one of those jobs, one taking him to a server farm in the middle of Siberia to retrieve information, that he finally gets his paws on a lead. A power source with a description freakingly familiar to the tesseract is being held somewhere in Europe. 

When he looks at the map, the coordinates are where Sokovia is in Clint's world. Here, that strip of land is a small country with a long history of being torn between larger powers. It suffered occupation more than once, but survived against all odds. 

He makes his way there as fast as possible. In the meantime, he hires someone to fly Lucky over, because Clint won't leave this universe without him. So while he waits, he stakes out the lab. 

The building is old, peeling, and unassuming. Thermal scans show a hospital of sorts above ground, and five levels underneath. 

The energy of the tesseract shows up in a silvery, unnatural color, on the screen. 

~

Lucky is scheduled to arrive in half a day. The morning is fresh and cool. In the courtyard of the hospital, Strucker steps out of a side door while a van parks nearby. Clint's blood freezes in his veins when another man drags two kids from the vehicle. They can't be older than ten, dirty and wide eyed, but clinging to each other. 

The absolute fucker. Clint draws his bow. 

~

The fight is messy only because Clint aims for damage instead of quick kills. He wants them to suffer. But then, the hospital staff is not too sad about their basement guests being gone. Still, Clint buys their silence. 

He grabs the children—they look so familiar, yet Clint can't really put his fingers on why—and flees. It's a boy and a girl, he assumes from their clothes, although only they would be able to decide what they are—but for now, Clint might as well make all the suppositions, it still wouldn't help. Thankfully, they haven't screamed, not at the sight of Clint anyway. They didn't say a word so far either, but they don't seem frightened, not with the way they cling to him. 

Soon enough, he reaches the more modern hospital on the other side of the city and sets them down on the sidewalk. He gives them a gentle nudge toward the door.

"Go on. You'll be safe there." 

They would be, Clint has checked the place out beforehand. Aside from the lab in the other building, he hasn't found any sign of whatever organization Strucker was working for in this universe. So perhaps he was a singular agent. It doesn't matter anyway, since Clint has the tesseract and won't let it back into their hands anytime soon. 

He turns on his feet and sets off down the sidewalk, looking for a car to borrow. He's in the process of shoving a stack of bills in the glove compartment, when he feels eyes on him. Outside the window, two faces stare at him. Clint sighs and opens the door.

"Go back. You can't come with me," he says, watching as the two of them climb into the passenger seat. 

He can't drive them back, the car might be recognized, and he's all out of cash. All he had left to do was go to the airport, wait for Lucky's flight to land, and jump on his own plane out of here. Easy peasy. 

But.

The boy smirks at him and—

Clint's eyes fill so fast he can't stop them from spilling over.

"Pietro," he croaks. "Wanda."sho

The kids perk up, grabby hands clutch at his sleeve, and Clint sits there for longer than acceptable, in a car he's in the process of stealing, hugging them to his chest. 

What would Wanda back home say, the older one, who lost her twin brother, if Clint abandons them here?

He wipes at his eyes as best he can, before wrangling the both of them in the backseat. It's not easy, but apparently once they understand Clint's not sending them away, they sit there quietly. It's weird that they don't speak. Might be anything. So he doesn't try to force the issue, but he does keep a semi-regular steam of explanations on what he's doing. 

Twenty four hours later, he's in Berlin, getting lost in the crowd. 

~

Thing is... Clint has no idea how to activate the tesseract. 

He sets it down in the ratty hotel room he's rented, while Wanda and Pietro munch on pretzels, and stares at it for long minutes. Finally, he sighs, rubbing a palm over his face.

"You wouldn't just open a portal to take us home," he tells it, "if I asked nicely, would you?"

To his surprise, the tesseract does as asked. 

It is apparent that Clint has to leave it behind if he were to step through, but one glance at the kids, at Lucky wagging tail in between them, and Clint knows there's no choice here to be made at all. 

With a wish that the portal does take them home and not, say, to Thanos, he ushers everyone through. 

It's still Berlin on the other side, the same hotel room, but with a different bed cover, and no tesseract. 

Checking the news tells Clint that if he isn't home, at least he's in a world mostly similar. His phone is working again, so the first thing he does is text the Avengers. 

A quinjet arrives for him in record time, on auto-pilot.

~

When he lands in front of the farmhouse, he's surprised to see it lit up inside. He draws a weapon, wary, just as Bucky steps out on the porch. Lucky bounds toward him with abandon.

Clint rolls his eyes and sheaths the knife. 

"Don't tell me," Clint says, "you drew the short straw."

Bucky throws him an unimpressed half-glare. "Everyone's busy."

Despite the knee-jerk reaction to antagonize Bucky, Clint is tired, and it's late, so he doesn't comment further. Besides, if his nose is working right, what he's smelling is pizza. 

Not any pizza either, pizza cooking in his own oven. 

His stomach growls so loudly, the kids giggle. Silently, leaning into each other. 

Clint swallows. He's cleaned them as best as he could, but they need baths and a medical check-up. And papers. And then to figure out why they're not making noise. They seem to be responding to sounds, but that doesn't mean their hearing isn't affected. Or maybe they learned that speaking could get them in trouble, or there's something wrong with their vocal cords. 

A touch on his arm pulls him out of the spiraling thoughts. Clint sucks in a breath. 

"Doc Marks in town is waiting for my call," Bucky says. "I spoke to him earlier."

It takes a moment for Clint to understand what Bucky's saying, but he nods. 

"Lets get some food in you while we wait."

~

It's evening. From where he's sitting on the steps of the back porch, Clint can see the sky changing color above the treetops. He sips his coffee, chasing sleep, trying to put his thoughts in order. Under his hand, Lucky rests, head on his paws. He looks at Clint from time to time with his one eye, and Clint gives him little pets. 

He's taken his aids out, so he can't hear what's happening in the house behind him, but he knows Bucky is there, making cookies under the supervision of Pietro and Wanda. 

Clint swallows the lump in his throat. 

Doc Marks checked them out last night and declared there was nothing wrong he could determine from a short consultation. They're scheduled for some tests tomorrow. Clint really shouldn't be drinking coffee so late, but one, Nat isn't here to give him the stink eye, and two, he doubts he could sleep anyway. He's too wired up with the thought of being home. 

It's then that Bucky steps into his view from the side, refills his mug, and walks back inside. 

Clint can't figure him out. 

Before his trek into the alternate universe, they weren't getting along. Mostly because when Clint met Bucky two years ago, Bucky refused to look him in the eyes while he had no issues with everyone else. Afterward, it had become clear Bucky was avoiding Clint and naturally Clint was hurt by it. Avoidance, that he could give Bucky if he wanted it, even though Nat tried to convince him to befriend their newest team addition. 

Thing is, Clint is not the type to hold grudges that long, but in this case it seems he can't let it go. So of course he doesn't know what to make of Bucky being nice to him. 

~

Three weeks and a long array of paperwork and tests later, it is the general consensus of the medical professionals that the twins' silence has psychological causes. 

Bruce drops by to check for quantum entanglements or whatever, and when he deems it safe, Clint calls Wanda over. The one who's an adult. 

She puts on a brave front in front of the young twins, though she's not kidding anyone. Her smile is a bit too brittle, her voice a little too shaky when she says hello. She does offer, but Clint doesn't want to invade the kids' minds without their permission, so he doesn't let Wanda dig. Not yet at least. 

He doesn't really know what to do. 

He needs help raising children, but Wanda is still dedicated to making the world a better place. 

And he doubts Bucky will stick around much longer. 

That night he tucks the children in, reads them a story he's not sure they understand, and goes out back to shoot arrows at the trees. 

~

In the morning, he stumbles onto Bucky in the kitchen, fresh coffee waiting for him on the table. 

"We gotta talk," Bucky says. 

Clint was hoping to get at least another week out of him before going. They haven't really had an interaction that wasn't about the twins so far—what time the next appointment was, what clothes they needed, who gets the groceries. With all their cohabitation, Clint hasn't really connected to Bucky. 

Looks like he wouldn't have a chance either way, and he can't figure out why that still stings.

He does grab the coffee and enjoys it while he still can, sitting across from Bucky at the kitchen table. 

It's not long before Bucky shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. He clears his throat while Clint stares expectantly. 

"You should teach them sign language," Bucky finally says. 

"Excuse me?"

"The twins. While we look for a therapist. You know sign language, don't you? It was in your file."

Clint wonders when the hell did Bucky read his file. How he got his hands on it, even.

"I bought this," Bucky continues and sets down a box on the table. "There's video instructions and cards with objects. Not sure if it's good, but the store lady said it was."

The next part he attempts to sign, clumsily, that he's tested it. If Clint weren't holding his mug on top of the table, he would've dropped it. He's probably gaping like a fish. Drooling. Clint wipes the corner of his mouth, but before he can say anything, the patter of feet thunders down the staircase. 

"Okay." Bucky nods like it's settled and stands. "I'll make breakfast. It's gotta be eggs today, they need the protein." 

The twins rush in, Pietro making a beeline for Clint and a subsequent attempt to climb in his lap, which Clint allows. Meanwhile Wanda stops next to Bucky where he's getting bowls from the cupboard above the counter. 

The light is crap in the morning, in the kitchen, but when Bucky turns to Wanda and leans down to bop her nose, when she laughs silently and he smiles at her so widely his eye wrinkles at the corner, it looks like they're bathed in the purest sunshine. 

His breath hitches, Pietro elbows him in the stomach, and Clint shoves the image aside. 

He has more important questions right now, like when will Bucky leave and will he even say good-bye? 

However, he gets distracted again when Bucky asks, in a quiet voice, while cracking eggs, "Do you know what language they speak?"

"No. Their country doesn't exist here and I've already tried Sokovian. They don't seem to understand it better than English."

"And when you were there?"

"I got by with English," Clint says. 

Bucky hums and grabs a fork. "What do you want in your eggs?"

"Nothing, but… can you make some bacon?"

"Sure thing."

Like it's easy to abide by Clint's requests. Huh. Is it though? 

~

Two weeks later, they're assembling build-a-bears in the living room, the four of them gathered on the floor around Clint's dingy coffee table. 

"Maybe I should get some new furniture," he muses. 

Bucky helps Pietro stuff more white fluff up the butt of his bear before looking up. "The kids' bedroom could use some shelves. And can we get one of those foldable guest beds? My back is starting to hate the couch."

Clint blinks. "My bed's big enough," he says, although he's only meant to think it.

But now it's out there, aloud, and Bucky's entire body twitches hard enough that he rattles the coffee table. Wanda and Pietro's little heads snap up, eyes wide. They aren't scared, not at all, just curious. Wanda pats Bucky's hand gently, and Pietro looks between him and Clint. 

"It's okay guys," Clint tells them with the most comforting smile he can. They still don't understand much, but they're fast learners. 

When he looks over, he sees the same expression on Bucky. 

And then their eyes meet.

Clint's never seen Bucky turn red in the entire time he's known him. It reminds him of the barn and the color it was when freshly painted.

"Maybe we should paint, too," he says, in lieu of anything that makes sense.

Bucky, though, takes this as the out it wasn't intended to be, and adds, "I think green could work in this room. Something warmer in the kitchen."

~

They tuck the twins in together, like usual. Bucky tells a story with voices and Clint signs along to it, just to get them used to the gestures more than anything. The signs for 'good night' are more and more sure on their little fingers, and Clint's chest feels tight. 

Lucky follows him down the hall and drops down on his bed, set up right between the doors of the bedrooms. Clint stops to give him a head scritch and wish him sweet pizza dreams. 

Only when he's inside the bedroom, does he realize Bucky's been following as well. He raises his eyebrows.

"You said I could sleep here," Bucky says. 

And, really, Clint has nothing to respond to that. The bed is, indeed, big enough. 

If he wakes up with warmth against his back, he doesn't complain.

~

Not a week later, Nat and Wanda drop by, waking them up with shouted promises of donuts and fancy-ass cappuccinos. They stay the whole day, and in the evening, Clint joins Nat out on the porch. He needs her perspective on the confusing element that is currently Bucky Barnes, playing cards with Wanda, Little Wanda, and Little Pietro in the kitchen. 

"So you're sleeping together," Nat says before Clint can even open his mouth.

"Yeah?"

Nat lets out a long exhale. "Finally. He's been pining for you for so long, it has gotten painful to watch."

"What?" Clint swears, his voice doesn't sound so high, usually.

Nat blinks. 

"What?" Clint asks again, because it sounded like—it sounded like—

He chokes on his own spit.

It takes a while and a lot of pats on the back, until Clint can breathe properly. He stares at Nat pleadingly, all teary and sniffling. She rolls her eyes.

"Idiots, both of you. Please don't tell me the 'sleeping together' is nothing more than sleeping."

Clint nods, shaky.

"You should talk to him," she says.

"Nat—"

"He volunteered to be here."

"But—"

She shakes her head and walks inside. 

~

Clint doesn't catch a moment alone with Bucky until they're sliding in bed and the memory of his conversation with Nat returns with a vengeance. He grabs his aids from the nightstand, puts them on. It's dark and he doesn't want to turn the light on. 

"Bucky?"

A hum. 

"When are you leaving?"

Clint can feel him go rigid. The swallow that follows is loud. 

"When do you want me to go?" Bucky asks, and his voice shakes so badly, it gives Clint an entire body shudder. 

"Do you have feelings for me?"

A second passes, two, and Bucky shoots up. He's on the edge of the mattress when Clint flings himself toward him. He catches Bucky where he's sitting, plasters himself to his back and holds on as tight as he dares. Which is to say, not tight at all, but Bucky stops moving.

"Since when?" he asks. He needs to know. 

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Since when?"

Bucky is silent for a long time, and when he speaks, it's with hoarse words. 

"Before I came to work with the Avengers, while I was in therapy, after..." He waves in explanation, back to the time he spent being tortured, and Clint shivers. "Nat told me about you, that you've had similar experiences and got better. She didn't tell me any details, don't worry, just wanted to give me an example that it was possible to live with it. I didn't believe her, so I stole your file and read it. Only—not all, only that you've been—"

"It's okay, I don't mind," Clint says and he means it.

Perhaps the bite of Bucky's animosity felt so sharply because Clint knew they had something in common, that they could understand each other on a whole different level.

Bucky exhales through his nose, draws a longer inhale in. "The idea of you being out there and functional helped me. Motivated me. And then I met you and your face did this thing—you smiled like I was a person and not a—you know—" Bucky's exhale trembles. "I was afraid to know you, at first, 'cos what if you'd destroy the image I had of you in my head? But then you turned out better and I didn't know how to talk to you."

He pauses, leans back into Clint, eyes closed. 

"I've had feelings for you since before we met," Bucky whispers, so low that if Clint weren't close, he might've missed it. 

His chest hurts. His belly squirms with something like warmth, a familiar one. 

Oh.

Fuck.

Perhaps.

Perhaps Bucky isn't alone in this, after all.

"I think I have feelings for you, too."

He places a kiss on Bucky's shoulder for good measure. 

~

When Clint wakes up, he is immediately aware of two things. One, he is the big spoon, which is nice, but his back is cold. Second, he feels watched. 

He blinks awake. Next to the bed, Wanda and Pietro are holding mugs that seem full of something that might be coffee, given the smell. Lucky jumps on the bed, startling Bucky. 

It's not the best tasting, nor the strongest, but it's the awesomest coffee Clint's ever had. There in bed, him and Bucky leaning against the headboard, while the twins practice their good mornings. His aids are way over on Bucky's nightstand. 

He dares a kiss, and is rewarded with a smile and two wrinkled noses. 

Clint points at himself and signs, "Happy."

~End~


End file.
